


Good Therapy: The Nice and Accurate Progress of Anathema Device

by Magus_Kuro



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, I had a plot, Newt and Anathema notp, Now I'm pantsing, Post-Canon, Thanks Ramiel, Therapy for Anathema
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magus_Kuro/pseuds/Magus_Kuro
Summary: Several years after the events of Good Omens, Anathema realized something important: she'd never made one decision for herself in her entire life, and she wasn't really sure how to do so. And so she went to therapy.





	1. Therapy Begins

Anathema sat in a leather chair, looking across the room at several watercolor landscape paintings. They were some of the only color in the office. The walls were gray, the floor a darker gray, the table and curtains were black and the furniture was beige. The colors were meant to be neutral and soothing, she was sure, but they felt dreary to her. Almost absently she wondered what Agnes would say about this before she caught herself. She smoothed her skirt and carefully raised her eyes to meet the gaze of the woman who sat across from here.

She was a middle aged, a little plump and just starting to gray around the temples. She looked nice in the dark blue skirt suit she wore. A leather bound lay open in her lap, but she didn’t look at it. “Alright Anathema,” she blinked once around the name but continued with hardly a pause. “Tell me, what brings you here today?”

A deep breath filled her lungs and let it out slowly before replying. “I came to the realization recently that I’ve never made any decisions for myself. Not really.” Her eyes dropped to her lap. Saying it aloud sounded so much worse than it had when it was just in her head. It had sounded pretty bad then. 

“And why do you think that?” The woman asked. Her tone was encouraging, positive. There was a pleasant neutrality in her expression.

Anathema looked up and met her gaze steadily. This was the first test, then. “I was trained from early childhood to follow and decode certain teachings handed down by one of my ancestors. I was supposed to do one thing in my lifetime. I did that thing, and now I…” she paused and looked down to frown at her fingers. “I don’t know what to do next. I don’t know how to ‘next’. I feel like I’ve just been along for the ride so far and now I’m finally taking the wheel, so to speak, and realizing I don’t know how to drive.”

When she looked up, the therapist was still smiling at her. “Well, that first step to getting a driver’s license is learning about what happens around you on the road. Why don’t we talk about your life and try to come up with a few things that you might feel were decisions that were made for you?”

~~~

“Welcome home,” Newt said from the kitchen table as she walked in the door. He’d pushed away his breakfast dishes and had the newspaper open in front of him. She walked over and gave him a kiss, surreptitious taking a glance at what he was doing. Any hopes that he was job hunting or even reading were quickly dashed when she saw the half finished sudoku puzzle in front of him. He’d become addicted to them after moving to the US with her. 

Stifling a sigh, she gathered the dishes to bring them over to the dishwasher.

“Oh honey no, don’t do that,” Newt said, watching her. “Let the maid get those.”

“It’s her day off, remember?” she asked as she loaded the washer. “I asked you to get the dishes before I left?”

“I forgot,” he admitted. “And I might have dozed off here for a little bit. Anyway, how did your appointment go? Do you think you’ll keep this one?”

She nodded slowly, remembering the therapist’s smiling implacability. “I liked her, she was nice. I’m not sure if I’m going to keep her yet. We haven’t gotten into the really weird stuff yet. But she didn’t flinch when I vaguely told her about Agnes, so I think I’ll at least go back for a second visit.”

“Great. I’m so glad, love,” Newt said, rising and coming over to her. “I’m so happy you’re working through all of this. I really want us to have a normal life together.”

He pulled her into an embrace and she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

~~~

“I’m not asking you to believe all of this, I don’t think I’d believe it if I hadn’t been there, but I feel like context is necessary,” Anathema told the therapist. This was the second test.

“My job, or at least part of it, is to listen without judgement. It’s also my job to help you get to where you want to be,” she paused for a moment. “And as strange as what you say might sound, I do have to keep in mind, things were very odd world wide there for a bit. And it looked for a moment like we might all die in a nuclear apocalypse. I know it affected a lot of my patients very deeply.

“Right now we’re talking about you, though. And we’re talking about what skills you are going to need to learn in order to live your own life. Not a life dictated by your family, however ancient, or by anyone else.”

“Right now, what I want is to know how people live their lives without someone guiding them,” Anathema said. “Without Agnes’s prophecies, I just feel lost. Adrift.”

The therapist nodded encouragingly. “People often feel that way when something that has been a major part of their life ends. Filling that void sometimes helps. Can you think of something you might enjoy or find fulfilling?”

“Not really. To be honest, I’m not even sure what I enjoy when it’s not directly tied to Agnes or the prophecies.” She shrugged helplessly. 

“That’s some homework for you then. Find something you enjoy doing. I have a couple directions you might try exploring like puzzle solving or treasure hunting.”

“I’ll try anything, I guess,” Anathema said. She meant it too. The thought of picking her own activities wasn’t nearly as scary as the thought of a life yet lived that stretched out before her.

~~~

“Oh, there you are,” Newt said as she emerged from what had, until a few days ago, been one of their spare bedrooms. “I was getting worried. Would you mind terribly changing the television channel? The daytime television on this station is rubbish.”

“Fine, what do you want?” she asked, going over to get the remote. They’d discovered the hard way that the computer electronics in smart TVs meant Newt couldn’t operate them himself. Even voice commands would fizzle out Netflix until they could get a repair person in. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Just something that’s not a soap opera. Maybe you could turn on a renovation series?” He suggested. After she’d changed the station, he sighed. “Thank you. So how’s your project going?”

“I’m definitely making progress,” she told him, smiling to herself. “I think I’ve solved a couple of the book puzzles, and I’m plotting out where I think one of the treasure items might be.”

“That’s nice, love. I’m glad you are so into all of this. Be careful, though? This is the sort of thing can be dangerous if you let yourself get too sucked into it. I’ve heard of people who have lost years of their lives to this sort of thing,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you to it.”

“You won’t,” she said. “It’s not like that. I just want to find this treasure before my next session with the therapist.”

“Whatever you say, love. Oh, and don’t forget you promised to make dinner tonight,” he said, going back to the show he was watching.

“Like you’d let me forget,” she murmured as she went to take care of some of her own needs.

~~~

“That’s very impressive,” her therapist said when Anathema presented her with her abrieviated notes, a soil stained plastic container, and a newspaper article about her find. “It’s hard to believe you found it so quickly when people have been searching for this for years.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” she said with a smile. “I can see that,” the therapist said, nodding. “So tell me, how does this win make you feel?”

“I guess I’m satisfied with it,” she said, frowning thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’d rush out to do it again, though.”

“And why is that?”

“I think,” she said slowly. “ I got a little too involved. It was like I was back with the prophecies, deciphering and always pushing, pushing, pushing to figure out what it all meant. In that sense, the puzzle was engaging, very, very engaging, but I don’t think it felt fulfilling. Not like it used to, anyway.”

“Did this shift happen after the averted apocalypse?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding slowly. “I dint’ notice it a much at first since Newt and I were a little busy figuring out what was happening next. You know, where we were going, what paperwork we were going to need, so on and so on.”

“And how did you feel after the busyness ended?”

She thought for a moment before answering. “Empty,” she said at last. “And just a little lonely. Everything I’d worked for my whole life was suddenly over, and it felt like I had nothing to show for it.”

“And the loneliness?”

“I mean, I still talk with my family of course,” she said, shrugging. “But it’s different. We don’t have any kind of passion anymore. No more prophecies to argue. I mean some of them still want to argue them, but what’s the point? Mostly these days mom just keeps me updated on who’s had what baby and who wants to know when I’m having one.”

The therapist took a slow, deep breath, nodding. “It sounds like this event had a very significant impact on a lot of different aspects of your life. Please correct me if I am wrong, but it sounds as though you feel that it has disconnected you in a major way from your family and your heritage.”

Anathema frowned a little. “I hadn’t really thought about it that way, but I think you might be right. So what’s next?”

“Well, next we try to figure out how to make you feel less lonely. I would suggest trying to reconnect with your family, but it sounds like you’ve already tried that. Maybe instead you could try connecting with the people who went through this event with you. Obviously you have Newt, but you’ve also mentioned others from time to time. Do you think writing to them might be something that could help?”

“Only one way to find out, I suppose. And I wouldn’t mind talking to them again.” She paused and amended. “Most of them anyway. Sargent Shadwell isn’t always the most coherent, and I’m not sure about Crowley…”

“Write to whoever you are comfortable doing so. Remember there is no pressure and no deadline behind this.”

~~~

When she arrived home that afternoon, Newt was asleep on the sofa in the living room. There was a Sudoku book splayed across his chest and a pen dangled from one hand. Anathema crossed the room without waking him and picked up the dirty dishes he’d left strewn over the coffee table. The record player hissed quietly in the background, but she ignored that and instead headed to the study.

The room was small, barely large enough for a desk and a book case, but it held everything she normally needed. She sat at the desk and opened the lowest drawer, pulling out a few things until she found the box she wanted. She opened it and her hand passed briefly over an ancient piece of parchment, carefully folded and and tucked on top of her stationary. Moving it aside, she pulled out several pieces of paper and began to write. Choosing who to write to wasn’t terribly hard. Few people were privy to one of the most important events in her life. In the world really. After a few minutes of thought she decided she might as well write to all of them. She hoped at least a few of them might write back. Now there was a sad thought: writing to a demon who wouldn’t write back.

Shaking off the feeling she sighed and picked up her pen to begin her first letter.

_To the Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate,_

_Greetings,_

_I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write, though I’m not exactly sure how you personally mark the passing of time…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anathema deserves so much better than what she got in canon. I'm giving it to her.
> 
> I want to give a shout out to MittensMcEdgelord and NineEyes. Both of you cheered me on while I was writing this first chapter and it's very appreciated. Mittens, Ramiel is also appreciated, but I'm going to have to figure out what exactly I'm doing with that guy. It's gonna be fun, though!


	2. Anathema Writes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some letters get written across the pond.

To the Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate,

Greetings,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write, though I’m not exactly sure how you personally mark the passing of time.(1)

I am writing to you today at the urging of a friend and confidant. Do you know what a therapist is? I have a bit of a hard time imagining that an angel, or a demon for that matter, would have need of one. Then again, I am not privy to the workings of heaven, so maybe you have loads of them. Anyway, I’ve been feeling a little lonely, so my therapist suggested I write to people I know and who know about me. And well, I know you, so I”m writing.

How you have you been since we last spoke? Are you and Crowley still together? How’s the book shop?

Newt and I are still together. We’re living on the west coast. It’s really nice here when it’s not too hot to go outside. Poor Newt often finds it too hot, he’s always been in the milder English climate and still isn’t used to the heat we get here.

In other news, I finished a treasure hunt recently. There were multiple prizes you could find, but after finding one I decided not to go for the rest. We don’t need the money and once was enough for me. Newt wanted a little of the prize money and I donated the rest to an organization cleaning up the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. I’m happy enough with the little statue I found. It’s pretty cute and obviously hand made. Basically it’s a mountain with a couple different mythological creatures curled around it. I adore the colors.

I’m running out of things to say, so I will end this here. I hope you will write me back. In any case, thank you again for saving the world.

Sincerely Yours,  
Anathema Device

(1)Here she was tempted to say ‘poorly’, but refrained. Insulting a heavenly being was unnecessary, unkind and unwise, no matter how true the statement might be.

~~~

To the Witch Anathema Device, Decipherer of the Unknowable, Terminator of the Apocalypse(2), and Many Time Great Descendant of the True Prophet,

Greetings!

What a surprise and delight to hear from you! Thank you for such a lovely letter. I was tickled from the get go by your address. In the future I give you permission to address me as ‘the angel Aziraphale’, or, if we are to continue writing, perhaps you could just call me by my name. How cozy!

In the same vein, I hope my own salutation was satisfactory. I couldn’t remember if you had a touch of the true sight yourself or if you were just very clever at deciphering Agnes’ disjointed and sometimes meandering prophecies. It’s funny, you would think I would be able to remember since there aren’t a great many true prophets in the world. In fact, aside from Agnes (and possibly yourself) I’ve only had the pleasure of knowing one other truly gifted with foreknowledge of the ineffable. His name was Ramiel and he was a Watcher, angel of divine hope, prophecy and a few other things. We were friendly for a time after the whole Eden thing, but then he fell and we lost touch. I haven’t heard from him in ages. I sort of miss him.

But, that isn’t what this letter is about. We are reconnecting ourselves. I am so glad that your friend suggested you write. I’ve heard of therapists before, of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to one. Heaven doesn’t really have those.

**But they really should. Might have really fucking helped with your fallen angel situation. - C** (3)

Oh dear, I am so sorry. I cannot believe Crowley did that. He has his own letter to write, is insisting on reading mine as I write. In fact he’s reading over my shoulder right now. I suppose I’ll say nice things about him anyway.

Crowley and I are doing well. We have an understanding with our respective home offices that, as Crowley says, everyone finds mutually disagreeable. He’s now telling me he’s never said anything like that, but I think he has and I was just paraphrasing a bit.

The shop is doing extremely well. I don’t know how, but Crowley recently tracked down an extremely rare manuscript of Arthurian legends. I’m quite sure I’ve never seen anything like it. There are a host of angels present during much of the adventuring, not just the holy grail sequence. It’s rather lovely. Very inaccurate, but lovely all the same.

Crowley’s been finding me little surprises like that just to tickle me. It’s very sweet of him. We also like to go out on the town sometimes. Usually we go to the park and different restaurants. The Ritz is still my favorite, though.

Congratulations on your treasure hunt win! I know how thrilling it is when I find something I have been searching for. Despite my collection, I find there’s always something more to track down out there. Actually, the book that eluded me longest was that of your great ancestor’s prophecies. I wish there was another copy in the world, but alas, it was not meant to be. I would love to see it if you’re ever on this side of the pond again. And of course you and Newt too. You could even bring the little statue you found. I’m sure it’s delightful.

I am going to wrap up my letter here since Crowley has requested an excursion to the park. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it in his letter. Please do write again. It was delightful to hear from you. Until then.

Your Earnest Acquaintance,  
Aziraphale

(2)Anathema thought this was an odd title to be given, but figured the angel didn’t know the movie franchise.  
(3)Here a small tussle took place back at the bookshop as a certain angel wrested his letter back from a certain demon. He was most distressed to see the red ink the demon had used. Afterwards he demanded to know where it had been procured--the corner store--and why--because he likes it. The demon then suggested the angel would like to write in white. The angel denied this and professed he would like to write in gold.(4)  
(4)After this conversation the demon went back to the corner store and bought a gold gel pen, which the angel loved. All communication hereafter was written in this pen, which looked far more like gold leaf than it has any right to.

~~~

To the Demon Anthony J. Crowley, Father of Original Sin,

Greetings,

I hope you don’t mind me writing to you or that I’ve sent your letter by way of an angel. I didn’t really have contact information for you. (5) Please let me know how you would like me to contact you in the future if you actually want me to continue writing.

I have to admit, I am a little apprehensive about writing to you. You are a demon after all, even if you are the cleanest and nicest looking that I’ve seen. I’m actually more afraid of what you’ll say. At least I hope the angel will be nice if I am annoying him.

Anyway, I’m writing because a friend and confidant suggested that I should get back in contact with the people who were at the almost apocalypse. I hope I got your title right. Agnes was a little vague on those. “Tremble not, for the Principality of Eden, Guardian of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent, Father of Original Sin, stand ready to do battle.” I was a little surprised that she was actually saying you were going to fight with me and not each other, but then a lot of her little prophecies surprised me at the end.

I’m sorry I can’t really pick a topic for this letter. Maybe I’m having a hard time because I’m not good at making decisions. That’s actually one of the main reasons I’m going to therapy. I went from deciphering life advice from a woman who’s been dead for 400 years to trying not to scream every time I ask Newt what he wants for dinner and he gives me a non-answer. Anyway, I don’t think this letter writing business is going to help me make decisions, but hopefully it’ll help me feel a little less lonely.

In future letters, is there anything specifically you do or do not want to hear about? I can tell you how therapy or my charity work is going. Or maybe what Newt is doing, though that is mostly the same--sudoku. Feel free to write to me about anything. What you do in your free time, or what you had for lunch, or anything. 

Anyway, I’m going to send this letter now. Write me back if you want. It’s times like this that I wish I had Agnes’s new book so I could check to see if this was a good idea or not. I’m just picturing her saying something like “Anathema, thou veriest of twits. Send thy letter and be done with it.” Alright, I hope you’re having a good day.

Sincerely Yours,  
Anathema Device

(5)She didn’t have contact information for Aziraphale either, but was able to find the address for his shop online. The reviews were both entertaining and enlightening. 

~~~

Anathema,

Oh don’t call me that. Only Lucy and the boys still call me that. And I mean, Lucy is the only one who still talks to me at all after everything that happened, so it’s really just him.

And just to be clear here, Lucy is a Satan, but not the one who fathered Adam. He is waaaaay not into human women. I know it’s a little confusing for some mortals, but Satan is a title, not a name. Humans sometimes don’t realize there can be more than one of something. It’s actually a little bit of a problem in the supernatural community. I mean, for a time your lot actually credited a demon named Gadreel with being the Father of Original sin just because he’s also got a little bit of snake in him. Looks completely different, by the way. I didn’t really mind the mix up. Not until some idiot alchemist summoned managed to the both of us into the same tiny circle. And while I like the guy, that was like trying to play twister with an angry ferret. The guy controlling that sideshow attraction ended up sending us back without learning anything besides a few new swear phrases in ancient Sumerian. Can you believe that idiot included them in his grimoire? It’s true, saw it a few years ago in the Angel’s shop. Guy didn’t even spell it right.

Speaking of the angel, I know he promised that I would tell you about our outing in his letter, but I don’t think I’m going to. Very demonic of me, breaking an angel’s word and all. You know we’re very retired at this point, but I do like to keep in practice. Really.

Anyway, go ahead and write again. Write about whatever you want. Maybe about that charity thing, that sounds interesting. Or if Newt does something besides Sudoku. That wet napkin breaking a routine would definitely be notable. Hell, you could even tell me more about Agnes’s unsolved riddle prophecies. Those are also pretty interesting and I never did get to read most of them. You say there was another set. I sure hope that wasn’t what you burned. Those seem like something useful to have.

Anyway, things to do, people to see and all that. Later.

Crowley

PS - Crowley asked me to tell you we had a lovely time at the park. -A (6)

PPS-I waited until the Angel went to get tea to add this: don’t tell him you burned a book. It’ll make him sad and then I might have to, I don’t know, bring back pointed hats and get all the networks to put on Charmed reruns. -C

(6)“Oh come on, did you have to tell her that bit?” a certain demon asked as the angel wrote the post script.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was extremely fun to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. I'm considering posting little chunks of this story onto my tumblr account as I write them before posting the compiled chapters here. Would anyone be interested in that?
> 
> Huge thank you to MittensMcEdgelord for their help with this chapter. It wouldn't be half as funny without you. Also, a shout out to NineEyes for reading and loving!


	3. Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we finally get to meet the real star of our story: the mailman.

“Their letters were very nice. I’ll probably write them again, but I’m not sure what to say,” Anathema told her therapist. “I guess I could tell them about the charities I work with, but I’ve been supporting those for years. They don’t feel new to me. I want to write to them about something new!”

“Is it that you want to write about something new, or do you want something new to happen in your life?” Her therapist asked.

“Probably both,” she admitted. “Sometimes I just wish something new would happen to me. It kind of feels like everything since the apocawasn’t has just been anticlimactic.”(1)

“From what you’ve told me, it sort of has. Most people in the modern world aren’t brought up with the sort of expectations your family has had for you. They don’t have an end to their goals. This is something we’ve talked about before. The finality of burning Agnes’s new manuscript was definitely an ending to that chapter and you’ve been waiting for the next one to start, because that’s what’s always happened before. But life is goes on without pause.”

“That’s part of the problem,” Anathema muttered.

“And why is that?” she asked.

“Because I don’t know what comes next. I’ve always had Agnes here to tell me what comes next if I can just figure it out,” she said. “But now I have to figure it out on my own.”

“Because no one is telling you what to do. But you don’t need someone to tell you what to do. You can ask family and friends for advice, but ultimately what you do is up to you. Tell me, who do you talk to about what you want to do next in life?”

“Mostly Newt,” she admitted. “Which isn’t great because all he wants to do is sit on the couch and play sudoku. Maybe listen to a record or two.”

“How about this for some homework, then: find someone you can go to for advice.”

(1)The poor therapist was thinking, but didn’t say “The apoca-what now?”

~~~

Newt opened the door for her when she got home. Something was wrong. He never met her at the door unless something was wrong.

“Hey Newt,” she said trying to sound casual, “What’s going on?”

“You have a visitor,” he announced, motioning vaguely toward the living room. “He says he has mail for you.”

Well, it wasn’t bad. Probably. She wasn’t going to classify it as good, but it wasn’t bad. She took time to set her things down on the foyer table before heading into the living room. 

The TV was on and several effeminate men were helping what looked like a 30 year old college frat boy look a little more respectable. This was not Newt’s choice in programming. She glanced back over her shoulder at him and noted that he’d already gone back to his sudoku. Great, he was just going to let strange people into the house and he didn’t even seem to realize it could be dangerous. She was going to have to talk to him about this later. She wondered what Agnes would have said.

As she approached the couch she saw a man sprawled across it with the worst posture she’d seen since she saw Crowley lounging at the bookshop one time. He had long dark hair and delightfully tanned skin. Overall he had a middle eastern look to him. Possibly Egyptian. 

He blinked up at her before sitting up quickly. “Ah, you’re here,” he said, holding out a cup of coffee to her. A familiar green mermaid stared back at her. “Venti caramel soy latte for Anathema?”

She had her hand halfway out to take the offered drink before her mind caught up with what was going on. “Wait. Wait just a minute, what’s going on here? How do you know my drink order? Who are you?”

“Oh, right, right,” he said, standing. He set the drink down and ran a hand through is hair. “Let’s see, been a while since I’ve done this. Okay, I remember.

“ **Be not afraid, for I** -” he paused. “Wait, is that something we say to mortals anymore?”

”No, it’s really not. Last angel I met introduced himself by running me off the road.”

“Well that seems a little excessive.”

“I thought so. You ah, still haven’t answered any of my questions, though,” she said.

He frowned and pursed his lips. “What were they again?”

“Let’s see. Oh, who are you? Why are you here? And how do you know I take soy in my latte?” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “And could you start at the beginning, please?”

“Sure, darling. Anything for you. In the beginning, God created the world,” he said. “Started by peeling it off from heaven, but then it was formless and kind of sucked.”

“Wait, no.” She waved her hands to get his attention. “I know that part. You can skip ahead.”

“Sure.” He smiled. “So in the beginning in the Garden of Eden there was an asshole serpent-”

“No, I’ve got that part too. Skip ahead, please.” She wasn’t going to mention that she was pen pals with that particular asshole serpent.

“Right, so in the beginning the children of Lilith were sent to watch over this great city. But apparently all we were supposed to do was watch and not do things like teach humans metal working or astronomy. In retrospect, I _guess_ we went a little overboard. Humans probably didn’t really need to know the movements of the heavens or the divine prophecies of angels, but really, it’s a little harsh that we all fell. It wasn’t my fault they were so eager to learn or that the priest was so hot.” (2)

The demon took a deep breath and composed himself. “So anyway, falling honestly didn’t change that much. I was just able to be a little freer in my interactions with humans.”

“Freer?” She asked as he paused again.

“Oh you know, the usual sort of thing. Human lovers, casual prophecies, raucous parties, etc, etc,” he said, motioning with his hand. “Well one of those parties got just a tiny bit out of hand and someone thought spiking the wine with oleander was a _great_ idea. I don’t know if you’re up on your poisons, but that’s pretty not good for most mortals and actually me too. I probably should have noticed it, but I was a little drunk at the time. (3)

“Anyway, I didn’t die, although in retrospect that might have been easier. Paperwork for getting discorperated would have been a bitch, but at least I would have probably been back a little sooner. But no, I got sick and told the priests I was going to sleep it off. They somehow interpreted this as ‘don’t let me die whatever happens’, and put me in a sarcophagus covered in all sorts of magical things to keep me in that body. This body, whatever. (4)

“Anyway, I just woke up a little bit ago, and found the letters. There was one addressed to me, specifically, which was a bit odd, but well you know. I read it and here I am.”

“Oh. Wow. I have so many questions,” she said, looking concerned.

“Might as well give them all to me at once,” he said sounding resigned.

“Okay, so you started in ancient Mesopotamia and just woke up from a centuries long sleep, but now you’re in America? How does that work? How do you speak English? For that matter how do you know how to work a TV remote?” she glanced at the TV. “And how do you know what Queer Eye is?”

“Oh darling, it’s a long story (5) that isn’t really relevant right now,” he said. “Why don’t you read your first letter and we’ll talk after that?”

~~~

(2)Actually, he fell entirely because of that priest and their rather lurid liaison. In a rather round about way he succumbed to the temptation of the Gadreel, the former angel of cosmetics. Gadreel was the one who made that priest look so damn hot.  
(3)He was, in fact, extremely drunk at the time.  
(4)A few hundred years after the initial interment, a new high priest, desperate for some ceremony to make himself more important and solidify his power a little, decided to have the sacred sarcophagus buried with the honors of a god.  
(5)That wasn’t exactly true. It was more of a medium sized story. Because the priests made sure he couldn’t discorperate by essentially trapping his spirit inside a stone box, Ramiel did in fact miss most of world history. In fact, he might never have gotten out of that box at all if it hadn’t been damaged during transport to America after it’s discovery in the 70’s (6). A key portion of the inscriptions was broken by a dock worker who was thinking too much about what he was going to have for dinner and not enough about how much a stone sarcophagus actually weighs. While the repairs were expertly done, Ramiel found he could now exit in a sort of spirit form. He was still tied to the body but could at least explore a little, and that’s how he met the butler.(8)  
(6)The Tomb of the Nephilim was discovered by millionaire Nicolas Ashton. He cannot take any credit at all for the find, however. It was honestly all Agnes (7). He is a distant relation of the family who through some strange circumstance ended up with a partial set of prophecies. He, being bored and rich, decided to take a crack at them with moderate success. He discovered a set of letters Agnes had waiting for him, and in said letters was a clue that led him on an extended archaeological dig. That culminated in the discovery of the tomb.  
(7)It is also Agnes’ fault that he thinks Ramiel is a Nephilim.  
(8)Milton Ward was both the butler of Nicolas Ashton and a minor medium. Now while most demons can go around possessing whomever they please, Ramiel was still recovering from a centuries long poisoning and imprisonment. That made an arrangement with Milton a happier and more comfortable experience for both of them. Besides, Ramiel was used to asking permission from those he got to know intimately. In any case, they each had something the other wanted desperately. With Milton as a willing and helpful possessed person(9), Ramiel was able to see the world. He learned he loved Freddie Mercury and hated Ronald Reagan. He picked up current fashion, technology and slang. He even convinced Milton to buy a few things. While they never fit Milton quite correctly, they hugged Ramiel in all the right ways. You might be asking, what did Milton get in return? Well, Milton was very, very shy. He made melting into the background an art form. It was one of the traits that made him a good butler. It was not good for finding a boyfriend. That’s where Ramiel came in. If there’s anything Ramiel is good at, it’s being confident and seducing men. Milton was, of course, conscious and consenting as much as his partners were, he was just sort of there as things happened. So everyone was happy.(10)  
(9)Here after referred to as _gidim_ as that’s the term Ramiel is most familiar with.  
(10)So happy, in fact, that when the US finally got marriage equality, he took a few personal days off from work and then added someone to his insurance. It should be noted that his employer never noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all love Ramiel as much as I do. He is an actual angel from the Book of Enoch (as is Gadreel). Gidim is the Ancient Sumerian term for someone who has been possessed. A surprising amount of research had to go into this chapter.
> 
> Another shout out to MittensMcEdgelord and NineEyes. I wouldn't have gotten this written without your shouts of encouragement. Also, thank you to Mittens for basically writing all of Ramiel's dialogue and helping me plot this when I was stuck.


	4. Agnes Writes a Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agnes is getting in on the letter writing for therapy. Also other letters ensue.

To mine deareft moft wondrouf defcendant,

I greet thee now withe love. I hope thou wilt forgive an olde woman for writing after much hath befallen the worlde and much time hath occurrede. I write from the paft with the wifdome of the futurre. 

I admit I am vexed with thou, fore ye did burne mine owne booke, yet trulye I am moe vexed with mine owne perfon. Methought thou did need a hufband, when 'i fact thou needed a wand madeth by the venerable hitachi and a boon companion to whom thee can telleth thy trouble. 

But truly, that if not whye I writeth. I haft given to thee a new companion to holp thee in thy journey. Bee kinde to Ramiel and he wilt helpe thee.   
Fairwell anon, mine defcendant. 

Yourf,   
Anges Nutter 

P.F. I did hath him arrive the present day so thee might hath a topic to talk upon in thy letterf. (1) 

(1)And here the ‘deareft moft wondrouf defendant’ did yell: “Oh. My. God. She’s still here!”

And the fallen watcher replied: “I’m sorry, who?”

And she said: “Agnes! She knew what I said today in therapy and she sent you!”

And the watcher did say: “I think we’re going to need to back up here for a minute.”

~~~

Dear Crowley,

Up until about an hour ago, I was worried about what I would include in my letter, and that it might not be interesting enough. I guess that's right out the window. Newt and I had an unexpected visitor show up at the house. Do you know someone by the name of Ramiel? I hate to assume that all the fallen know each other. Anyway, he showed up at the house, and Newt, dear Newt, let him in without questioning him. All he had to do was tell him he needed to hand deliver me a message(1). I could throttle him sometimes, but he means well. Did I mention that Ramiel brought me a message? Because he did. It's from Agnes. The old witch has been spying on me in therapy! I mean, I'm glad she's still concerned with my well being and all, but therapy is supposed to be private! 

Agnes, if you're reading this, please stop. This is my personal correspondence. Thank you for everything. I love you as much as someone can love a person who has been dead for 400+ years, but it's time for me to live my own life. 

Sorry, I just felt like she was looking over my shoulder now. Creepy, right? She's been gone so long, but it feels like she's still here. Anyway, I'm going to go try and analyse her letter, I guess. It's got a couple weird clues in it that I should probably decipher. I'll write again when I have it figured out.

Sincerely,  
Anathema

(1)Newt did in fact try to tell Ramiel that Anathema was out and that he would have come back another day. As we can see, it didn’t work.

~~~

Anthema,

Well there's a name I haven't heard in a couple millenia.That's assuming it's the same Ramiel, but someone would have to be pretty stupid to try to impersonate him. Any demon would know the difference. Just because we don't like each other doesn't mean we don't know one another. 

Speaking of, if you see this supposed Ramiel again, please tell him Gadreel is looking for him. Gadreel, by the way, is an old friend(1) who unexpectedly showed up on my doorstep. Well, Aziraphale's, but you know. I was the one who let him in. Seems word has gotten out that if you're in trouble with downstairs, there's at least one safe place on earth. Angel was a little sceptical until Gadreel complimented his wardrobe (2) and I vouched for him. 

Gadreel is apparently in some trouble with the Hell for false reports, or something. Which honestly, I don't really understand. They don't really keep good track of their agents. It's so easy to claim to be behind something humans do to themselves, and besides Gadreel has been a successful television producer for years(3). But anyway, he said Ramiel was the cause of his troubles, which didn't make sense at the time but I suppose does now. Anyway, show him how a telephone works and have him give us a ring. I'm sure you have the shop number.

Tell Agnes hello for me. I will be interested in what you get from this besides a case of the willies from a very long dead witch. I'm sure Aziraphale will want to know as well. 

Crowley

(1)Friend in the sense one can be when one doesn't talk to the other in several thousand years.  
(2)Something along the lines of super retro chic. While the angel was a little confused, he appreciated the flattery.  
(3)His imdb page is often flagged, as the list of credits is longer than a CVS receipt and spans a wider swath of time than Keanu Reeves(4)  
(4)A known immortal, though no one knows who's side he's on and both sides try claim him as their own.

~~~

Dear Aziraphale,

I hope you and Crowley are doing well and that you had a good walk. I would love to hear more about the rare volumes he is finding for you. Do you collect all sorts of things or only Angel and prophecy works? Maybe holy works? Whatever it is, I would like to hear more.

Speaking of prophecies, Crowley mentioned you're interested in them so I thought I would tell you: I've gotten a new letter from Agnes. It's not exactly a prophecy, but it's the first new item we've gotten from her since the apocalypse(1). It was hand delivered by a rather strange individual going by the name of Ramiel. Have you heard of him? He said something about Nephilim before settling in on the couch(2). I'm not actually worried about him. He seems like a nice enough being and doesn't hold it against me for saying so. Besides, I don't think Agnes would send me anyone actually dangerous. For all she blew herself up, she's rather good at trying to keep the rest of us out of trouble. 

I tried to tell Newt this, but I think Ramiel might be making him uncomfortable. I mean, Newt hasn't said anything, but he's out on the back deck doing his Sudoku, and he usually doesn't go out there this time of year. He says the heat doesn't agree with him(3). He has always been a little weird about anything occult like, though(4).

Anyway, I think I'm going to go check on him. Maybe I'll bring him a lemon aid and a fan. Hopefully you have some cooler weather going on there. I'll write again soon, I'm sure. Until then,

Sincerely,  
Anathema

(1)Which was more or less true if one lumped the arrival of the package in with the ending of that whole adventure.  
(2)Ramiel was in fact marathoning Queer Eye and occasionally talking to the TV to give his own fashion advice.  
(3)There were, in fact, only a few things Newt hated more in life than the weather all of America seemed to have. The whole place was either an oven, an ice box, or a wind tunnel with no decently temperate weather to speak of.  
(4)Newt hated the supernatural marginally more than he hated hot weather, but only marginally. He especially hated when he couldn't deny something supernatural was happening. And when he couldn't deny it's existence, he tried to remove himself from it(5). Anything that upset the natural order of things made him uncomfortable, and magic is definitely an upset in his book.  
(5)This was actually rather annoying for Anathema. She was, after all, a witch. And despite what Newt seemed to think, averting the apocalypse didn't change that.

~~~

To My Dear Friend Anathema,

Thank you so much for writing to me again. I do so love hearing from you, especially when you have such interesting news! While I do collect books of prophecy and religious texts, I enjoy a wide variety of literature and Crowley's been finding some other things. I'll talk more about that some other time, though. Right now I would love to know more about what is happening there. Crowley says Agnes is still looking in on you? Fascinating! I would love to examine the letter myself at some point. Perhaps we could pop over for a visit, with your permission, of course. 

On to the next pressing topic: Yes, I do know of a Ramiel but I have not heard that name in a very, very long time. He was, perhaps is, a fallen watcher. Which isn't quite the same as a demon. Possibly. Technically. You see, he didn't rebel against heaven, he just had a few to many relationships with humans that were a little too intimate. They were supposed to be watching, not interacting! By the way, those interactions(1) among the larger population of Watchers and humans were the origin of the Nephilim, so I'm not sure who botched that. 

At any rate, almost all the Watchers fell for one reason or another. At that point, heaven recalled most of it's permanently stationed agents. I was one of only a handful of of exceptions. My network of spies and agents made me to valuable to dismiss(2).

After the Falling of the Watchers, many were never heard from again on my side. There was a rumor floating around a while ago that there were some who refused to pledge loyalty to the other side and were just living their(3) "best lives"(4). It is interesting he should potentially turn up now. We actually have another watcher as a house guest. I think Crowley might have mentioned him. Perhaps he would know more. I'll ask.

Also, don't worry too much about Newt, I think. I'm sure he'll come around. I mean, he seemed to like Crowley and I just fine. If it's any comfort to him, however, I think Ramiel should be safe enough to be around, especially if he's still going by that name. If you all would like we can pop by for a chat, though. Until then, though, I wish you both the best.

Your Earnest Acquaintance,  
Aziraphale

(1)"Interactions"  
(2)This was in fact, a mistake. He was supposed to have been recalled, but do to a clerical error, was left off the original list. He and his "network" was then actually valuable. So he was allowed to stay since he showed no inclination toward humans. They, of course, had no idea his inclinations ran toward a certain demon. To be fair, at that point neither did he.  
(3)The angel paused thoughtfully to ponder the phrase he'd heard earlier that day and recall it in it's entirety.  
(4)At this point a certain demon pleaded with the angel not to use modern slang, especially not in a hand written letter. The angel refused until the demon actually got onto his knees to beg dramatically. Startled, the angel promised not to do it again. They both got a standing ovation from their house guest.

~~~

Dear Madam Tracy,  
I hope this letter finds you well. I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write. I had a hard time finding your address after you and Sergeant Shadwell moved. Thankfully Newt had the old address and your landlady was able to help me forward the letter. She seemed to think the two of you were together, but only had your name for forwarding purposes(1).

If you know where Sergeant Shadwell is, could you ask if I could write to him? You see, I am goin to therapy and one of the things they suggested was to reconnect with the people from the event. I am sort of hoping that might help Newt as well. He seems stuck in a rut lately and I was wondering if Sergeant Shadwell might be able to give him a pep talk or something. 

Thank you for your help, and I hope this doesn’t put you in any sort of an awkward position.

Sincerely,  
Anathema Device

(1)Shadwell decided not to give his forwarding address, just in case anyone ever remembered the witchfinder army he had supposedly run and decided to check up on them.

~~~

Dearest Anathema,

It is delightful to hear from you, dear! I do love receiving mail. I really wish I’d thought to get everyone’s contact information at the time, but I was terribly flustered after everything that happened, and much more focused on how the Sgt and I were going to get home without a miracled scooter. As it happens, even angels take the bus from time to time, and they can help you with the fare if you ask nicely.

Yes, I do know where the Sgt is. He’s in the den with whatever project he’s working on now. I’ll ask him to write something for Newt before I send this letter out. Never you mind about awkwardness, though. I’ve a bit to tell you myself. I actually go by Marjorie these days. It’s my given name, you see. Madam Tracy was just my professional name. For both professions. And since I’ve retired from both, I’ve retired the name, you see. Sgt Shadwell still calls the Whore of Babylon, though, so that’s alright. 

I hope you and Newt are doing well. I’m glad to hear you’re in therapy. I quite like it myself. I’ve been in therapy for years. I find it quite relaxing. I hope you find it so as well. I would recommend it for anyone, really. 

Well, I’m going to go find Sgt Shadwell to see if I can get him to pen a bit of something for dear Newt. 

Blessings,  
Marjorie Potts Shadwell

~~~

ATTENTION PRIVATE PULSIFER:(1)

WHAT ARE YOU DOIN’ BOY? GET YOUR SHITE TOGETHER AND GET OFFA THE COUCH. GET OUTTA THE HOUSE! THE MAN I KNEW FACED DOWN WITCHES AND DEMONS AND FOUGHT EVIL WITHOUT FLINCHING. IMMA GET THE WITCH TO REPORT ON YAH, AND IF I DON’T HEAR OF IMPROVEMENT, I’LL TELL HER TO SEND YAH BACK FOR RETRAINING.(2)

SARGENT SHADWELL  
WITCHFINDER ARMY

PS(3) - No he won’t. We haven’t the room for a guest unless he intends to sleep in a tent in the garden.

(1)This was stuffed into the same envelope as Madam Tracy’s letter.  
(2) Here Newt protested that he had, in fact, never received any training at all.   
(3) The post script was written in Madam Tracy’s handwriting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a WHILE since I posted, huh? Well, in the months since the last update I have moved into a new house (first time home ownership, baby). I am hoping to be posting more regularly now that we're moved in (more or less) and have at least a few rooms finished. Let me know what you think.


End file.
